


healing hands

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Hadrian/Rosana, Doctor/Patient, M/M, background samothes/samot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 08:12:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17422181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: Samot hurts his ankle while Samothes is away. Samothes, ever dedicated, finds a suitable doctor to look after him.





	healing hands

**Author's Note:**

> alix and linda, you ~inspired me
> 
>  
> 
> thanks to maddie, for their speedy betaing

 

“You’ll like this doctor,” says Samothes, his voice a little grainy through the laptop speakers.

 

“You always say that about people you hire,” says Samot, absolutely not pouting.

 

Well, perhaps pouting a little. He was still feeling a little foolish from falling off the stepladder in the first place, especially without Samothes to fuss over him in person.

 

“Well this time I mean it,” says Samothes, “I have it on very good authority that you’ll want to get along with him.”

 

Samot’s eyes narrow. “Why?”

 

Samothes laughs, warm through the background static. “You’ll see.”

 

“I hate it when you say that.”

 

“No you don’t,” says Samothes, still smiling.

 

Even though he’s a thousand miles away, and Samot’s ankle throbs, he will almost certainly hate whatever bore of a doctor Samothes has organised this time, but Samot can’t help the rush of warm fondness in his chest.

 

“No,” he admits, “I don’t.”

 

The doctor arrives ten minutes prior to his set arrival time, which means Samot is still reclining on the couch and not standing by the kitchen counter pretending that his ankle is perfectly fine, thank you, like he’d planned to be.

 

The doctor is also very… He reminds Samot a little of… he reminds Samot a  _ lot _ of…

 

Well.

 

Perhaps, maybe, this time, Samothes was right. Just this once.

 

“Hello, doctor,” says Samot.

 

“H- Hello,” says the doctor, his voice cracking a little.

 

Samot smiles, lifting up his arms to stretch further along the couch.

 

“What, uh, you-.” The doctor clears his throat. “My name is Hadrian and I, uh… your husband advised that you needed assistance?”

 

“Yes,” says Samot, “I’ve hurt my ankle, and he does worry so.”

 

Samot lifts the leg in question, perhaps stretching a little more than he needs to but instantly gratified by Hadrian’s blush.

 

“I, uh,” Hadrian makes a small gesture with his hands, “may I?”

 

“By all means,” says Samot.

 

Hadrian’s focus narrows, his blush fading as he turns his attention to Samot’s ankle. He kneels down, bringing Samot’s leg down with him. His hands are warm, gently touching the painful swelling.

 

“What’s your verdict doctor?” says Samot.

 

“It’s a sprain,” says Hadrian.

 

“I know that,” says Samot, “but isn’t there anything you could  _ do _ to help me feel better?”

 

Hadrian looks up, frowning. There’s a beat before he seems to realise he’s kneeling in the middle of Samot’s spread legs, gently cradling Samot’s ankle. His blush returns full force, to Samot’s delight.

 

He clears his throat again. “Uh. I can prescribe some painkillers, and bed rest?”

 

“I’m afraid I’ve never been very good at  _ resting _ in bed,” says Samot, “Perhaps you could show me how?”

 

“It’s, uh, it’s, you know, I have a lot of patients with that issue,” says Hadrian, setting Samot’s foot down gently and stepping back.

 

“I’ll bet you do,” says Samot.

 

“I usually recommend, uh, reading,” says Hadrian, “Or having visitors.”

 

“Offering to make bedside visits,” says Samot, “you’re very dedicated.”

 

“I uh, I don’t think I’ll need to come back,” says Hadrian.

 

Samot blinks up at him. “No?”

 

“I don’t know why you’d need me,” says Hadrian.

 

“I can think of more than a few reasons,” says Samot.

 

After a few more very flustered minutes, Hadrian departs, leaving only a prescription and his office number behind.

 

“You must be losing your touch,” says Samothes.

 

Samot shuts the laptop on him.

 

Samothes texts him, later, with the set times of Hadrian’s follow up visits.  _ Never let it be said that I am not dedicated to your continued health and wellbeing while I’m away.  _

 

Hadrian, despite blushing profusely, does manage to get better at speaking in unhalting sentences. He gets both better and worse at reacting to Samot’s advances, especially as Samot leaves pretense further behind. Worse, in that he cannot seem to respond in any way other than leaning into Samot’s space before jerking himself backwards. Better, in that when he leans in, he can’t seem to look away from Samot’s lips.

 

Samot licks his lips, biting the bottom one.

 

“Well doctor,” he says, voice deliberately breathy, “How does it feel?”

 

Hadrian blinks, looking down at Samot’s foot in his hand. He doesn’t move away, a fact which Samot takes as a personal victory.

 

“I, uh, everything looks okay.”

 

“Are you sure you don’t need to make a more… thorough examination?”

 

“I...uh…”

 

Samot’s other foot trails slowly up Hadrian’s thigh, tracing a line over the fly of his pants. Hadrian lets out a shuddering breath.

 

“Or maybe instead,” says Samot, “I could examine  _ you _ ?”

 

Hadrian quickly stands. “I, uh. That won’t be- you’re the patient. You’re  _ my _ patient, I...”

 

“For now,” says Samot, “I’m happy to take turns, if you’d like.”

 

Hadrian makes a strangled sound. “You- I apologise, I’m running late for my next appointment.”

 

He leaves in such a rush that he leaves his coat behind, with his phone in it. Samot calls the most frequently dialled number, which turns out to be Hadrian’s very charming wife. She offers to pick up the jacket on her way home from work, her voice easy and warm even over the phone.

 

“His phone’s not even  _ password protected _ ,” says Samot, “my husband would have a fit.”

 

Rosana laughs, taking a sip of the wine Samot has graciously poured them both.

 

“He had one for a while,” said Rosana, “but it was too easy to guess.”

 

“Wedding anniversary?”

 

“Our son’s birthday,” says Rosana.

 

Samot’s eyes drift, for a moment, to the photo of Maelgwyn on the fridge, his arm slung over Samol’s shoulders, cheeks a little sunburnt.

 

“Of course,” says Samot. He pauses, considering. “I… am not sure if your husband ever discusses work with you, but I thought perhaps-”

 

“Ah,” says Rosana. She smiles again, warm and easy. “Yes. I wondered when it would come up.” She pauses. “So to speak.”

 

Samot huffs a laugh. He takes a sip, waiting for her to continue.

 

“He does, on occasion, discuss work with me. Also, on occasion, we discuss other things.” She pauses. “You must be aware that you are quite beautiful.”

 

“So is your husband.”

 

Rosana hums. “And  _ your _ husband.”

 

“Also quite beautiful,” says Samot, “and away, for now.” He pauses, swirling the wine in his glass. “He worries about me so, which is why he requested for Hadrian to look in on me so often.”

 

Rosana’s smile is slow, crinkling the corners of her eyes. “How thoughtful of him.”

 

Samot hums around a mouthful of wine. “He is a  _ very _ thoughtful man. As is your husband. I was hoping that I could thank him in some way. Perhaps with a dinner?”

 

“I’m sure he’d love that,” says Rosana.

  
  


Hadrian fidgets through the dinner, fumbling with the cutlery, and looking mainly, red-cheeked, down at his dinner plate.

 

“Do you not like the food?” asks Samot.

 

Hadrian’s head snaps up. “What? No, it’s, uh, it’s wonderful, I just… I don’t normally do this. With patients.”

 

“But I’m no longer your patient,” says Samot, “that’s why I wanted to thank you, with this dinner. For taking  _ such _ good care of me.”

 

Hadrian’s eyes flick down and then back up again. “Uh. Thank you, it’s- I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

 

“Oh,  _ much _ better,” says Samot, “although perhaps you’d like to check me over one last time?”

 

Hadrian chokes on his food. “I… I’m not- I thought I wasn’t your doctor any more?”

 

“You wouldn’t be doing it as my doctor,” says Samot, “It would be more for your own… personal curiosity. If you’d like.”

 

Hadrian swallows. “Is it… is it something  _ you’d _ like?” He quickly looks away, half-rising from the table. “I’m sorry, this is unprofessional of me, I-”

 

“Wait,” says Samot, catching his wrist. “I’m trying to get you to be unprofessional.”

 

Hadrian freezes. “You- what?”

 

Samot leans towards him, laying a hand carefully on Hadrian’s thigh. He can feel Hadrian’s muscles twitch. “Be unprofessional with me.”

 

Hadrian’s cheeks flush. “I. Ah. If it’s something that you would like.”

 

“It very much is,” says Samot, looking him up and down, “and I think perhaps it would make me feel better. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, as a doctor?”

 

“Yes,” says Hadrian, barely above a whisper.

 

Samot smiles. He cups Hadrian’s cheek, sliding his hand up over Hadrian’s scalp, enjoying Hadrian’s small gasp, the way his eyes flutter closed. Samot stands, his hand resting on Hadrian’s shoulder.

 

“Do you need me to disrobe for this procedure, doctor?” asks Samot, smirking.

 

He shifts back a little to unbutton his shirt, putting a little too much weight on his still-sore ankle. His smirk changes to a wince.

 

Hadrian is by his side in an instant.

 

“I’m fine,” says Samot.

 

“Even so,” says Hadrian. He clears his throat, twice. “I could… As your physician, I recommend bed rest?”

 

He looks up at Samot through his eyelashes, his gaze tentative, his hands hot on the skin of Samot’s waist.

 

“Whatever you say, doctor,” says Samot.

 

Hadrian easily lifts him, sending a pulse of heat through Samot. He doesn’t let himself kiss Hadrian as Hadrian walks them towards the bedroom, instead trailing his fingers along the line of Hadrian’s neck, the shell of his ear. Samot leans his head on Hadrian’s shoulder, almost-but-not- _ quite _ brushing his lips along the sensitive skin under Hadrian’s jaw. He can feel Hadrian shudder, feel the almost-stumble in his footsteps.

 

He lays Samot down gently, as though he really were the fragile creature he’s playing at being. Samot keeps ahold of Hadrian’s hand, keeping him so close to the bed he’s almost kneeling on it.

 

“But doctor,” says Samot, “I’ll be so  _ bored _ , just  _ lying here _ . Isn’t there something you can do for that?”

 

Hadrian swallows. For his position on the bed, Samot can see the outline of him, hardening in his slacks.

 

“I, uh.” Hadrian clears his throat again. “First I need to do an- a thorough examination.”

 

Samot nods, letting go of his hand and stretching his limbs out on the bed, arching a little, showily. “By all means, doctor.”

 

Hadrian bites his lip, moving to kneel by Samot’s feet. Samot spreads his legs, giving Hadrian more room to move forward and relishing the way the tips of Hadrian’s ears burn red.

 

Still, Hadrian moves slowly, deliberately, his hands a gentle pressure on Samot through the fabric of his pants. It is frustratingly like the previous medical examinations, the heat of Samot’s previous imagining making him arch a little towards Hadrian without meaning to.

 

Hadrian hums, an impersonal, distant sound, the kind he made when looking over Samot’s chart. Samot bites his lip to muffle his sound of surprise at the reaction it stirs in him, not quite able to muffle the whine as Hadrian runs his hands along the inside of Samot’s thighs.

 

“Do you- Should I disrobe for this examination, doctor?” says Samot, his breathy tone this time not a deliberate tactic.

 

Hadrian swallows, manages a nod.

 

“Perhaps you could help me?” says Samot, “I am injured, after all.”

 

“Of course,” says Hadrian, his hands going to the waist of Samot’s pants.

 

Samot arches, letting Hadrian pull off the remainder of his clothing, leaving him bare under Hadrian’s dark gaze. He stretches again, under Hadrian’s gaze, revelling at Hadrian’s shiver, Hadrian’s straining pants. Samot can almost  _ feel _ the ache of him, under his skin.

 

“Doctor,” says Samot, “isn’t there  _ anything _ you can do for my  _ condition _ ?”

 

Hadrian’s blush deepens. “I- I do know of one technique. But it is a little, ah, unconventional?”

 

“Oh doctor,” says Samot, eyes wide, “whatever you prescribe.”

 

Hadrian ducks his head, taking Samot into his mouth as slowly and deliberately as he had touched him earlier. Samot groans, his hands clutching at the sheets beside his head. Hadrian draws back just as slowly, his rhythm building so gradually that Samot can barely stand it. He changes position slightly, lifting Samot’s legs onto his broad shoulder, letting out a grunt around Samot’s length as Samot digs a heel into his back.

 

It doesn’t make him quicken his pace, drawing back to run his tongue along the underside of Samot’s cock before drawing it back into his mouth. Samot’s toes curl, pressing against the strong line of Hadrian’s back.

 

“Oh,” says Samot, “ _ Oh _ , doct- Oh  _ Hadrian _ -”

 

Hadrian doesn’t move back, letting Samot spill into his mouth. Samot can see his throat working as he swallows.

 

He pulls Hadrian put more towards him, kissing him deeply, greedily licking the taste of himself from Hadrian’s mouth. Hadrian groans, the sound of it louder as Samot palms the front of his slacks.

 

Samot unbuckles Hadrian’s belt with one hand, his other roaming across Hadrian’s chest, cupping his cheek, cradling the back of his head as he kisses Hadrian. Hadrian whines into his mouth, all pretenses forgotten as he bucks up into Samot’s hand. Samot nips at his bottom lip, drawing another whine from him. He slows the pace of his hand, enjoying the way Hadrian squirming makes heat trickle through him again.

 

“Well  _ doctor _ ,” says Samot. “What is it that I should do?”

 

“I-  _ Samot _ ,” pants Hadrian, “please, I- you-”

 

Samot clicks his tongue. “That’s not very instructive doctor.”

 

“ _ Please _ ,” says Hadrian, his voice breaking off into a moan as Samot begins to work him.

 

Samot grinds himself against Hadrian’s thigh as his hand works, revelling in the messiness of it, muffling Hadrian’s pleas with his lips. He feels the wet-hot spill of Hadrian over his hand moments before he tips over the edge again, muffling his own groan in the crook of Hadrian’s neck.

 

He keeps Hadrian pulled close to him, and for his part Hadrian doesn’t seem inclined to protest, kissing lazily along Samot’s neck.

 

“I think I need overnight supervision,” says Samot, “wouldn’t you agree doctor?”

 

Hadrian hums into his skin.

 

“Besides,” continues Samot, “my husband will be back tomorrow.”

 

Hadrian stills. “I, uh.”

 

Samot pets along Hadrian’s head, trailing a hand down his neck, across his cheek, over his lips. Hadrian inhales sharply.

 

“He’s very dedicated to my well-being,” says Samot, “I’m sure he’d just love to thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places


End file.
